Day 236-239: Last Days in Jaipur

I can't believe this trip is really almost over! After Nawras left, reality sank in a bit. I started the good old job search, started organizing my things, packed, and watched a lot of good television shows and movies. We didn't leave the house grounds for 4 days! Pretty amazing, actually.

I decided that since I am not spending Christmas in India that I could bring a little Christmas here. What better way to do it than by feeding the Sinha family a good old fashioned Ewing Christmas dinner! Is there turkey? No, not really. Are there marshmallows? No. Are there fried onions? No, but is that going to stop us! Of course not!

We worked with chicken, no marshmallows for my sweet potato casserole (apparently it is already sweet enough - which I think is false. It can never be too sweet. Oh, and this is a side dish. Every American will swear it is until the day they die), and we actually had to fry real onions (gasp! Blasphemy. Who does such things!). It turned out and the family loved it. What is there not to love? This combo is American at it almost finest. Plus, some people might say it's just a bit healthier with a few of those friend/sweet elements missing. I think it's just not as delicious!

Pallavi's mom made an amazing apple pie to top it off. She asked if I liked apple pie. How silly! It's un-American to not like apple pie. There is practically the design of an American flag in that lattice crust if you look hard enough.

We played games and drank this amazing Spanish egg nog meets Bailey's meets spiced liquor. If time here has to end, what a great way to end our time here.

Day 235: Trip to Jaipur Airport

Nawras unfortunately only could take a few days of holiday to come to India before returning back to Dubai for an important presentation. We tried to convince her in many different ways to stay. This persuasion phase is a common Sinha family move. They are very good and really know how to pull your heartstrings. However, it failed.

At 1:30 a.m., we needed to leave to drop Nawras and her hubby off to the airport. Pallavi hasn't drive to the airport by herself in quite some time and the roads have changed significantly. As a result, she doesn't know the way to the airport. Normally, Pallavi's dad would drive, but we didn't feel right about keeping him up so late when he has to get up at 7:00 a.m. We were on our own.

Needless to say, Pallavi's parents wanted to make sure that we got there in one piece. Her dad, feeling responsible for us, pulled out his GPS and taught me how to use it. He even pre-programmed the route to the airport. Her mom also walked her through the verbal/visual directions. All set, ready to go, we got into the car, turned on the GPS, and set off.

We immediately started to ignore the GPS directions in lieu of the verbal/visual directions. Then, once we got to a point where Pallavi no longer recognized the route, we started following the GPS. Maybe what followed next wouldn't have happened had we not missed one of the turns. Next thing we know, we need to turn around. We can't just take a U-turn. Oh no. That would be too easy. Instead the GPS told us to turn left. Pallavi looked at the left and kept going, saying, "no way the GPS could mean that alley." Then it told us to turn left again. By this point, it was 2:00 a.m. The flight was a 4:00 a.m. Most check-in counters close 90 minutes before the departure time. We don't have time to be choosy. We need to just get to the airport! So, we turned left.

We then proceeded to follow some sequence of dirt alleys all the way through the back end of Jaipur. We joked that we were just giving them a last minute tour of Jaipur, since we hadn't really done any touristy things around the town while they were here. At one point we passed a camel parked outside somebody's home. We were so in the middle of nowhere that we had passed where the poor camel men live. Now, of course, it's 2:10 a.m. by this point, and Pallavi is rushing -  driving an SUV, with some speed, over all of the dips in the dirt road. She tried to be careful, but at one point, Nawras joked that she had just broken on of the bones in her body courtesy of one of those dips.

Finally, we make it to a main road and we see the end in the sight. The GPS has a little finish line flag on it. We pull up, ready to turn into the airport. What do we see? A closed military gate. The GPS had brought us to the opposite side of the airfield!

Quickly, Nawras' hubby puts on the GPS on his phone and we re-programme our GPS. It's 2:15 a.m. and we are 20 minutes away from the entry! We speed towards the airport. We got there at 2:27. Phew! We dropped them off without any problem.

So much for a GPS though!

Day 234: Pushkar & Ajmer

The Sinha family decided to show Nawras and her hubby one of Rajasthan's most iconic tourist towns: Pushkar. Pushkar is the home of the world's only Brahma temple. Hinduism has one god, who comes in many forms, 3 of which are primary forms: Brahma - the creator, Shiva - the destroyer, and Vishnu - the sustainer. Apparently Brahma had to do penance in Pushkar, and needed to make some prayer by a lake at sundown which can only be done alongside his wife. When his wife didn't come on time, the priests found some other local woman and married her to him, and then did the prayer. Then when the wife finally came out, there was hell to pay! She cursed him and told him that he wasn't fit to have a temple to his name. In the end though, she felt bad and told him, alright, you can have one temple here where you did your penance, because the place is so important to you.

Now, most Hindu gods are pretty groovy. One of them is even often depicted smoking hash. It is no great surprise that a place like this one would be a primary stop on the hippie trail. Times may have changed, but the amount of foreign hippies in this place certainly hasn't! This is the kind of town with one lane roads, lined with bulls and cows, Hindu priests all making their rounds, and white Europeans buying bongs.

Unfortunately, we didn't have much time to spend in this town before we went to Ajmer. In the morning, while we all sat down to discuss the plan, Pallavi's dad mentioned that there is a Durga located in Ajmer. This Durga is a holy place for almost every one of India's religions, and is the 2nd most holy place for Indian Muslims to Mecca. It contains the 'grave' of a sufi saint, who apparently sent his disciples away for a few days and stayed in his room, and, when they went to check on him 10 days later, discovered that a bed of flowers had replaced his body. They didn't even know he had died!

This place was absolutely mad! Now, Pallavi's family used to live in Ajmer, where her Dad was the commanding officer of the local military unit. As such, her Dad still has contacts there, so he had arranged a police escort and an Imam to help us break through the throngs of crowds. This was Islam meets India meets other religions. I haven't been so fascinated by India in a few trips. We moved through a heaving throng of people, past huge 400 kgs pots filled with food and money, past the Hindi wedding-style music playing, the men all sitting and sing/praying in the courtyard, the women tying cords to the edge of the grave in hopes their prayers come true, the men carrying offerings of flowers on their head, and pushed our way through the door to stand alongside the 'grave.' The Imam then did a blessing over our heads using a certain kind of cloth that had been placed on top of the grave. Then he tied cords for protection over our heads.

It was Incredible India at its finest! 

Day 230-233: Jaipur

I have roughly 10 days left in my journey and we decided to come back to Jaipur, Pallavi's hometown. Pallavi's friend, Nawras, and she have a pact to see each other once every year. Last year and earlier this year, it proved too difficult to coordinate; however, Nawras found a flight to Jaipur on 1st December for 5-6 days. Hence, we came back to Jaipur when we did.

We arrived mostly relaxed from our Business Class journey, visited with family, and then started the sleep deprived, anti-jet lag process. I do not jet lag. I refuse to start now. However, to not jet lag requires a bit of a painful process. You can't be fully rested and you have to push yourself through your tiredness to adjust your time clock. Whatever the time difference is, you must make sure that you fall asleep on time, on local time, on the very first day. If you do that, you will wake up on local time without any difficult. What's the problem in our scenario? 

It's a 4.5 hour time difference between India and Spain. We didn't sleep on our flight to Jaipur because we wanted to take advantage of our Business Class perks. This delayed bedtime meant we didn't sleep until the equivalent of 7:30 a.m. in Spain. To fall asleep at the appropriate time, we needed to wake ourselves from our sleep prematurely as if we had a nap.Okay, that is all well and good, but what time is Nawras and her hubby arriving? 3:30 a.m.! That meant that even if we sleep at 9:30 p.m. (which we did), we would still wake at 11:30 p.m., as if we just took a long nap! 

It is no surprise that we all stayed up talking until 9 a.m. after Pallavi picked up Nawras et. al from the airport. How in the world we only got 8 hours of sleep within a 48 hour period of time is definitely anti-bad backpackers. We've gotten so use to getting 10 hours of sleep every night that we winge if we only get 7. Good thing we have a few days of 'relaxing' around Jaipur before we start their tourism itinerary. 

Day 229: Flying Business Class

When we looked at flights back to India from Istanbul for my last pit stop before the US, flights from there cost approximately $500 AUD and something or 20,000 miles plus $350 USD. However, after a lot of plug and chug options, we realized we could fly to Spain and for an additional 10,000 miles, 30,000 total, plus $125 USD, we could fly Business Class on Etihad Airlines to India. Sold!

I've been saving my miles for years and rarely can I find a reasonable reason to upgrade and enjoy the Business Class. What better reason than ringing out our 8 months of backpacking on a luxurious note.

Etihad is one of the nicest airlines in the world and we were flying on one of their nicest aircrafts. A nicely groomed chauffeur in a tailored white suit picked us up for free in our Mercedes Sedan from our hotel to start our Business Class experience. At first, we were a little embarassed about the fact that we were getting picked up from a hotel labeled "Hostal," bu then we figured the driver didn't know whether or not we were trust fund babies just trying to 'tough it out,' so why not own it. Our flight was at 9:30 a.m., so it was really nice to just get into a car at 6:30 a.m. instead of having to navigate our own way to the airport.

Once we got to the airport, obviously we went through the expedited and extra-customer service friendly Business/First Class check-in and airport security, and then went right into the Premier Lounge to relax, have my first cup of coffee for the day, and eat a small breakfast. I didn't realize how stressful the general pre-flight experience actually is until we finally arrived on our airport completely relaxed!

We got to our seats and sat down on our Airbus A320 and immediately were served champagne. Our seats had in-built 4-area, 2 setting massage facilities, which I proceeded to use for the next 7 hours (plus the 3.5 hours on the next flight). We had little amenity kits waiting for us, which includes not just the standard high-end eyemask, flight socks, and earplugs, but also facial lotion and lip balm. The bathroom also had face mist and hand lotion. I had no idea how dehydrated my face gets in flight!

Our seats also lay down completely flat, which I only tried once, just to say that I had tried out every setting on the seat. I then got to taking complete advantage of the endless flow of mimosas and food, while we went on our comfortable movie marathon, with our feet stretched out, wrapped in our uber comfy blankets. I swear, I never want to fly economy again!

Day 228: Madrid

When we tried to figure out which airport offered us the lowest associated costs alongside my American Airline miles, the lovely AA person I spoke with told me that she couldn't get me out of Barcelona. She told me, I can get you out of Madrid.... maybe..... nope.... yes... maybe you'll just have to take a train to Madrid. Additionally, we wanted to spend extra time with Elena in Valencia without sacrificing our already short time in Barcelona. What did that leave us with on our Spain itinerary? One afternoon in Madrid.

It turned out to be just the right amount. We used a popular European share car service to get the 300 kms from Valencia to Madrid. It's a cool system. If you are driving to a certain location, you select the departure time, arrival time (based on your knowledge of the route), the pickup and drop off location, and the price per seat in your car and then you can 'rent' your car seats. Our driver, Tony, works for the Spanish National Police, and had to drive to Madrid for work. Did we learn much about what the Spanish National Police do? No. Did Tony get to practice his English with us? Yes! His English is way better than my limited Spanish anyway.

We got to Madrid and immediately got to exploring the place. We had two items on our agenda: the Palacio Real and the Prado art museum. Everything was within 1.5 kms of each other, so we got a chance to walk around the city. I can now understand how and why Spanish territories all have a certain look to them. Madrid architecture has the exact same feel and design. The churches all have what I know to be typically Latin look (obviously, it's a Madrid look). However, Madrid itself doesn't have the same charm as Barcelona. It appears to be the kind of city that is fantastic for world-class museums, night-life, and history; however, it certainly isn't the place you go for charm. At least not in my opinion.

We walked to the Palacio Real, or Royal Palace, past the Plaza Mayor (which not only held bull-fights and parts of the Spanish Inquisition, but is now the location of the happening Christmas market), only to find the Palacio Real was closed for some event. We then started our walk to the Prado museum. The Prado is on par with the Louvre, known for having works by El Greco and Goya. The museum also has this great art appreciation scheme where it opens to people for the last 2 hours of the day for free. We stood in our queue and went and saw some amazing art! Thankfully my Lonely Planet had the museum highlights by room, or else we would have missed so much of the Prado's great works.

After we had finished, we walked around for the evening, but we ended up feeling so cold that even though it was the last night of our trip, we just took a hot shower and went to bed, ready for our early morning airport pickup. 

Day 225-227: Valencia

Seeing my old friend Elena in Valencia played a significant factor when Pallavi and I decided to come to Spain before heading back to India. Elena is just as gracious a host today as she was the first time I visited. She had prepared the house just like an AirBNB - there was a map, a loaded metro card, a tourist book, and various welcome signs all over the house. 

While Elena went to work, we happily went and explored Valencia. Valencia is such a cute 'small' town of 2 million people. It seems so incredibly different in terms of culture and feel than Barcelona. Valencia always feels 'brighter.' Maybe that is because it is sunny and 'warm' all of the time. We froze when the sun went down in Barcelona. In Valencia, the sun goes down and it is still a 'balmy' 15 degrees. No hats and gloves needed here people! 

However, there isn't that much to do in Valencia. At least not in terms of historical sights, etc. Valencia is more of an experience. Apparently, I do not remember much about any of Spain from my previous visit; however, only after visiting it again do I realize that Elena took me on the best of the best that Valencia has to offer. I really must remember Valencia Take 2! 

We went to see the beach and watched some guy continue to get stung by jellyfish as he fruitless and stupidly tried to bathe himself in the Mediterranean. Dead jellyfish littered the beach! It's not like the stings should have surprised him, at least not continually. Yet, this guy got stung, ran away swearing, and then re-approached the ocean again, only to get stung. Dumb!

Pallavi and I also explored the old city. Did you know that Valencia played a key role in the silk trade? Or that it has a bull fighting ring? I did not! Later, Elena took us out on Friday night to a meetup in the old city. We walked around, slightly lost, looking for the venue. I asked Elena, "isn't this your city? You've lived here your whole life. Shouldn't you know your way around?" To which she replied in a hushed tone, "This area isn't my area. I don't like it. The streets are narrow and you can't see around the corner." My response, "the streets are wider, it doesn't smell like pee, and it's well lit. It's an amazing old city!"  Oh, perspective!

We found the venue, which was an English-language/cooking school. Great concept and well targeted in terms of the meetup group. Elena's meetup is a group of people who want to speak English. If I ever re-learn Spanish, I must participate in similar groups to this one. It's a great way to practice. The night continued to a few different pubs and a bad club, but at least now we know the nightlife in Valencia. 

Elena also spent her Saturday coordinating a lovely day out to the 'country' for us. She first took us walking around Valencia's state-of-the-art Arts and Science Center. As we walked around, warmed by the sun, hardly needing a light sweater, Elena pointed out a political gathering of some kind. The previous day, Pallavi had asked Elena the name of the Spanish president. He isn't discussed much on the news! Everybody knows the German chancellor, the British PM, the French president, and the Italian president who is always sleeping with lots of women; however, nobody knows the Spanish president. We went down to the basement and when we came back up, Elena's husband told us that the Spanish president was in that building. That building! The one with no security. The building we had just casually gone downstairs and used the bathroom in. We could have taken God knows what into the bathroom with us and left without anybody knowing. Sure there were a few guards with guns situations all around the park, but those are only a few people! No wonder nobody knows who the Spanish president is. Even his own people know that nobody cares enough about him to require additional security. I kid. Mostly. But still! Where was the security?! Even the Australian PM has more security than this guy! 

We then went a whole 16 kms outside of Valencia to a town called El Palmar, but it was like stepping into another world. Just 500 meters from the sea, exists a landlocked freshwater lagoon that is over 2500 hectares large. This area is filled with traditional one-room, A-frame, thatch-covered traditional Valencian fishing homes. Additionally, every historical sign is written in both Valencian and Spanish. Personally, I could barely tell which from which, so I'm not sure how much of a difference actually exists between the two. Also, I asked Elena if she speaks Valencian. No! What kind of Valencian is she. She claims it's because her parents came from outside of Valencia (although in the same province), which is why not only does she not speak Valencian, but she also doesn't have a single one of the traditional costumes from the area. Jorge, on the other hand, showed me that indeed Valencian culture is alive and well in his family, where he and his parents all speak Valencian. Whew! 

We went out for a huge traditional lunch with rice that comes out on a pan the size of your entire over. The key to eating said rice? Scraping the pan to get the carmelization off of the bottom. Elena had then arranged for us to go on a boat ride at sunset around the lagoon. It was such a perfect end to a perfect trip. 

Next stop, Madrid for a day for our last full day backpacking. 

Day 222-224: Barcelona

I LOVE Barcelona. If I could speak Spanish and get a job in the EU, I would 100% come to Barcelona. What is there not to love about the city? It has:

• Gaudi moderisma architecture
• Roman ruins
• Gothic quarter
• Beach and mountains that you can literally take a long walk between
• Funky fun bars and cafes tucked all around the Gothic quarter walls
• An amazing public transportation system
• Water you can drink from the tap (Yes, I have been travelling so long in "bottled water land" that I did need to ask if you can drink the water)

The only sad thing is that my friend Camilla, who has a base here in Barcelona, was in Berlin instead of here.

We actually ended up in Barcelona in a roundabout "how can we get to India in the cheapest possible" way. Believe it or not, it was cheaper for us to fly from Ankara to Barcelona and then use my American Airlines miles to fly out of Madrid (Business Class baby!) to Delhi than it was to fly to Delhi from Istanbul directly. Hence, we are in Spain! One baby touch of Europe to send us off of our backpacking trip properly. 

Barcelona really is just as lovely as I remember it. However, I do NOT remember the directions to anything! Last time I was here, I just followed Camilla around (and I did find some of the places, with Camilla's help, that she took me too the last time). After an uncomfortable low-cost airline flight from Ankara to Barcelona, poor Pallavi then ended up following me in the wrong direction for food when she was in a hangry state. I started looking at the map after that! 

We had less than 48 hours in Barcelona, so I took Pallavi on the highlight trip. Obviously, that meant taking her to Gaudi's Parc Guell and to the Sagrada Familia. Both have changed so much since I was last there. The administrators of Parc Guell are now trying to control the number of people on Gaudi's architecture, so to get to the main bits, you now need to pay a fee, which only allows you 30 minutes inside. It's a bit much for crowd control, although I do get it. Lucky for us, you don't have to go in in order to still see all of the great Gaudisms that exist in the park. Plus, in my opinion, it is the best view of the entire city! You can see the Sagrada Familia, the Gothic Quarter, the sea, and more. 

It's also really cool to see the Sagrada Familia again. It's a building that's been under construction for over 100 years and I had heard that it looks different ever time you see it; however, you have to experience it to really understand it. How amazing to see it change! Different statues. Different pillars are now almost complete. The tourist route is different because new construction has come up. Plus, you can see a lot more detail the second time around. I forced poor Pallavi to take the audio tour, but I think it was a big hit. It just was an incredible experience. Inside Sagrada Familia you really do feel the glory of God.

The next day we had just a few hours to 'finish' Pallavi's Barcelona highlights tour on a budget before catching our bus south to Valencia. We just walked! We walked by the sea (which turned out to be quite boring since all of these rich people boats were inconveniently parked in the harbor blocking us from the sea). Then we walked to the 'local' side of the Gothic Quarter, towards the Picasso Museum, by the old Roman walls and defense towers of the city, past the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Mar and finally back to the Cathedral. Tragically, our timing was wrong, so we missed all of the free entry times into all of the churches. Next time! Also, I'm so sad that we are here in November instead of December, because although we could see the Christmas markets being set up and get a sneak peek as to the wares, we couldn't experience it properly.

We left Barcelona very much with a 'see you again soon,' attitude and jumped on our bus to Valencia, to the waiting arms of our friend Elena.

Day 218-221: Ankara

We had heard that bus travel in Turkey is quite the experience. Legend has it that they have an attendant who serves you complimentary drinks and snacks, in-seat entertainment, and more. We had yet to travel via bus in Turkey and, as life would have it, that was the best way to get from Cappadocia to Ankara.

We got on board only to realize that the legend was true! We had in-seat entertainment that had a welcome screen with our name on it. The attendant came whenever we called him after his first run through. The movies and TV shows were only shown in Turkish, but Pallavi found an exception that was half in Hindi and wasn't dubbed over. That is the way to travel by bus!

We arrived at Ankara's airport-like bus station and needed to make our way to my friend Josh & Anca's house. I had not done my thorough research and only knew that their place was 12 kms south of the bus station and that it might be possible to get there by bus, but they and Wikipedia and the Ankara city bus website couldn't tell me how to do it. Did that stop us?? Of course not! A few questions from random strangers and the information desk later and we made got there. Check public buses in Turkey off of our transportation list!

It was so great to see Josh and Anca. Josh is in the Department of Commerce in the US Embassy, so we got to see all of the perks of staying with a diplomat (he does have a diplomatic passport!). We just relaxed with them and spent the whole next day preparing for and enjoying pre-Thanksgiving dinner. The day after they showed us around the Old City of Ankara, which is surprisingly cool.

Ankara is the capital city, primarily because it is strategically close to nothing. It lacks the charm of Istanbul and some of the size, but at first glance it just looks like a modern city. The old city has a beautiful citadel that clearly was rebuilt multiple times using leftover stones from the previous citadel. As a result, you have a mix of stones with Latin, Greek, etc. written on them, with random stone heads sticking out. We also just walked around the area, which surprisingly is the locals market. There are tons of artsy shops filled with mostly different stuff from what we had seen across the rest of Turkey. All of which are at artsy prices.

We then just relaxed, went to the mall, drank lots of wine, and stayed up just chatting. What a great way to end Turkey. Next stop: Spain! 

Day 217: Hot Air Balloons in Cappadocia

Ever since I saw my first hot air balloon rise above me as I went on my morning run in Melbourne, I have wanted to go on one. We never went in Melbourne. We always said we would go somewhere else. Cappadocia has earned the reputation of one of the best places to experience a hot air balloon. After some convincing and overcoming some trepidation about the -8 degree temperature we'd experience while up in the air, we decided to bite the bullet and get up at 4:30 a.m. for our 5:15 a.m. pickup time with Butterfly Balloons.

The experience was not like I expected and all in a good way. We missed sunrise because our original balloon had a problem and we needed to wait for them to set up another balloon. That didn't stop us from taking pictures of the other balloons starting to rise alongside the "sailors beworn" red sun, with a snow-covered volcano backdrop. It turned out to be the best use of that 10 minutes. Once we all climbed into our hot air balloon basket, before we knew it, the balloon had risen a few hundred feet. I didn't feel a thing! I always thought that a hot air balloon would create a sense of instability and would shake and blow with the wind. I didn't feel a thing. It was such a smooth experience. We soared over the fairy chimneys and the various valleys, catching all of the colours and shadows caused by the sunrise. Then we also saw all of the Byzantine Christian villages from the sky. You could see the various pigeon houses and cut-out windows in the volcanic stone. I hadn't expected to see that. Plus, because of the 10 minute delay, we were able to cross a mountain which other balloons hadn't been able to cross because of a wind that died out when we got there. As a result, we landed right near one of the open-air Byzantine museums. How did the balloon land? We were all prepared for our landing positions, which involves holding on for dear life while in a squat at the bottom of the balloon. We had mentally prepared to be dragged for a few hundred feet. Did we need to use our landing positions? No! Not only did we not need to use our landing positions, but the balloon operator landed spot on to the balloon trailer!

We then helped to squish the air out of the balloon and had our champagne while the balloon guys packed up everything before delivering us home. That wasn't the end of our day! We ended up meeting this American critical care doctor, Luke, who is in residency at Bellview Hospital in NYC, on the balloon. He is hilarious! We ended up meeting up with him after breakfast, sharing a long shisha and having tea, and then relaxing for dinner and drinks later. It was absolutely a perfect day. 

Day 216: Cappadocia & Goreme's Open Air Museum

Cappadocia is one of the top 10 IT places to visit in the world. At least according to what I had read. Obviously, when I learned my close friends Josh & Anca live just 250 kms away from Cappadocia, it only made sense that Pallavi and I pay this town a visit. Cappadocia is famous for it's "fairy chimneys," formed by some volcano that erupted 10,000 years ago. It has hit the tourist trail primarily as a hot air balloon destination.

We arrived completely unprepared for the weather. Believe it or not, a flight here cost us less than a bus ticket would. We stepped off of the plane from Istanbul at night and couldn't see what we can see now - that mountains surround this area on all sides.

We stayed in a town called Goreme. What we didn't know prior to visiting turkey is that Cappadocia was a refuge for the Byzantine Christian population. They lived here from about 300 AD until 1400 AD or so. They used the fairy chimneys and various vertical volcanic rock structures as hideouts from persecutors. Apparently, there was some sort of Lord of the Rings-like signal system that ran from Jerusalem to this region to alert the Christians that the persecutors were coming. They built entire monasteries and cities completely underground to help protect themselves.

We went to one particular monastery that is part of one of an open air museum. It is a series of complexes carved into the rock. I figured it would be like the cave dwellings found in Bandelier National Park in New Mexico. In some ways, it was exactly like that. You'd find random doors and windows carved into the rock face. However, nobody told us about the gorgeous, amazingly preserved Byzantine art found inside each of these various rock chapels. It is stunning. The colors are more brilliant and amazing than almost any 'outdoor' paintings I've seen. Obviously, these aren't nearly as old as the Pyramids or Pompeii; however, they are gorgeous. I've never seen anything like them. Unfortunately, their eyes are gouged out. We aren't completely sure what happened in history that caused people to mark out their eyes; however, it still didn't mar their beauty.

We explored the entire museum in awe and then booked our hot air balloon the next day. In a tragic turn of events, I quickly realized that it was going to be -8 degrees C up in the air. We decided to bite the bullet, despite the cold, but I made the decision that I needed gloves! Fortunately, some Turkish nana who ran a tea shop also happened to be knitting gloves. If only I had my Grandy, she could have made me some gloves as well. It didn't matter. This nana could solve my problem.

We called it an early evening. Hot air balloons await! 

Day 211-215: Back to Istanbul

I never want to drive in Istanbul again. How can people stand to drive how they drive here? I can handle the zipping across 4 lanes at high speeds to get to your exit. I can handle all of the fast moving truck traffic. I cannot handle start/stop traffic in a manual vehicle to travel 7 kms in 30 minutes just because this is a) a toll that is meant to be automatic, b) an on ramp, c) a bridge or d) some high profile escorted vehicle that requires the traffic to be stopped. I should be less stressed as a driver. Who does it help? Nobody! However, dang, Pallavi and I were so stressed that after we dropped off the family at the airport, we grabbed a kebab, went to the hotel, and refused to leave!

The next day we decided to just check out Hagia Sofia. As you enter that place, you can't help but think that this decor reflects how religions should interact with each other. Where else can you find the Virgin and Child next to Muslim decorations? Or Byzantine images of saints next to 12th century minarets? It is hard to imagine that this is the site of Constantine. Without Constantine, where would Christianity be? 2nd to Jesus, I'd say this is the next birthplace of Christianity. What a cool concept.

The whole church is beautiful. Layers are built on layers. Remaining mosaics of different former Emperors who commissioned a picture of their family alongside Jesus showing them giving money to the church. Circles on the floor show where the Emperor use to sit. All in all, it's an amazing place.

We finished up and went to stay at a friend of Pallavi's, staying at Taxim Square, who just landed in Istanbul for a month for work. All of the interesting museums closed the next day, on Monday. As a result, we did nothing but watch TLC on television, which launched in Turkey just a month ago. We only stepped out to get dinner at  Taxim Square. Taxim is the local area and it is humming. Thousands of people are out on the main pedestrian street walking around. When I stepped out earlier in the day to find a grocery store to buy breakfast stuff, it felt like I had slipped into living in Istanbul. It had a completely different feel than the touristy Sultanahmet.

The final day in Istanbul, we had just a few hours after we got up and around before we had to leave for our flight down to Cappadocia. We made a call and only I went off to the Dolmabahce Palace. Rick Steves told us that the Dolmabahce Palace was built at the end of the Ottoman Empire, by some 'weak' Sultans, who were determined to show the world that they still had it.

Overcompensate much? This palace had a huge wow factor. It has huge gates that look out upon and step down directly into the Bosphorus. On the inside, the palace doesn't have just one 1 ton crystal chandelier; the palace doesn't have an additional 1.5 ton crystal chandelier; the palace also has a 4.5 ton crystal chandelier. Oh, and that doesn't include the multiple crystal lamps and minor crystal chandeliers in each of its 100+ rooms. Or the huge crystal staircase. I must confess. I was a bit disappointed by the crystal staircase. I was expected floors of crystal! What did I get? Only the railing balustrades were 100% crystal. Disappointing! How am I supposed to be wowed by that.... ?

Of course, that doesn't include the 500 kgs of gold that gilded the palace. Or the beautiful baroque-style paintings that covered the entire room and ceiling. Or the historic paintings. Or the grand ceremony room, which I swear was built in size and style like Hagia Sofia, topped by that beautiful 4.5 kg crystal chandelier, and floored by the largest handmade carpet in Turkey. It is just as grand as any a crazy King Ludwig palace.

I barely had one hour to tour the palace before I had to get back to leave for the flight. You can't tour the palace by yourself. You have to join a scheduled group. I had seen my group leaving, knowing I didn't have enough time to wait for another group, I ran to join and the tour guide waved me on! You have to wear booties on your feet to protect the elaborate parquet floor made of 3 woods. As a result of the rush, I only saw half of the palace (the other half is on a separate ticket that I had wisely not purchased). Then I made it back just in time to start the 2.5 hour hike, including a ferry over the Bosphorus, to get to the other Istanbul airport for our flight to Cappadocia.

Istanbul is a cool city. I would absolutely love to go back.

Day 208-210: Pamukkale

I feel like the theme of the drive to Pamukkale, Pamukkale, and the drive back from Pamukkale is tractors. I feel like we got a glimpse into authentic, rural, agrarian Turkey. We didn't just take the main roads. Oh no, the shortest route to where we were going took us through all of these back road, country Turkish towns. Not that it would have made a difference. I have never seen so many tractors driving around in my life. Not even in Warrensburg, MO! Tractors drove on the highway. Tractors drove on the farms. Tractors drove on the small town roads. We even passed what I have decided was a tractor depot! Tractors parked on all sides of the roads AND driving on the town. My now TWO-tractor owning Dad would have loved this place.

Pamukkale itself is an interesting place. This location was Pallavi's sister's pick. Pamukkale is the site of an Ancient Roman spa town, set upon a cliff, with natural hot gas and water. Over a period of time, somehow, the water flowing off of the hill, has formed a series of calcium-deposit terraces with water pools. If you look up the site, it'll make more sense as to what it looks like. However, as one bypassing American tourist said: the fact that only a few and not all of these pools have water must be Turkey's best kept secret. There were a few pools that you could go in, and go in these people did!

Traditional Muslim head-covered women, would pull up their trouser legs to dip their legs in the cold water pools. European women would strip to their bikinis and sunbathe. Children would all try to play in the small fast-flowing water channel. One child even fell in! If there hadn't been another tourist, she would have been swept all of the way down the mountain in this narrow water channel. I, not realizing this was an accident, at first thought, water slide! That is why I'm sure I would not have made it long as a child in these kind of countries!

A local sweet owner of a restaurant we were at pointed us 6 kms nearby to the 'hot water.' Here is where we found all of the locals dipping their feet into the hot water pools. I swear it was like taking a bath! However, lots of people were drinking the hot water that was bubbling up. I can't help but think two things: 1) that can't be healthy, and 2) even if it were, how can you drink boiling water like that? I've tried drinking just hot water. It is not nice!

We made a call to drive Pallavi's parents back up to Istanbul rather than let them to their own devices. The whole aggressive drivers and driving on the other side of the road was getting to them. We switched our plan around a bit, but next stop, Istanbul. 

Day 207: Ephesus

We drove like mad to get so that we could see the ancient capital of Asia Minor, Ephesus. This is the town of "love is gentle, love is kind," Paul [Saint] letter to the Ephesians. Apparently, this is also where Mary, mother of Jesus, is rumored to have spent her remaining years (which I don't believe, but you gotta love a bit of Christian mythology). To start my day right, I ended up chatting with an older gentlemen, dressed in his Sunday best on a Tuesday, from Kokomo, Indiana, who was a Bible conspiracy theorist who believed that "Turkey will play a key role in the end of days." The key, he says is in the last verse of the 1st chapter, the first verse of the 2nd chapter, and the 10th verse of the 3rd chapter. I'm writing this down just in case he is right and I need to quickly reference from where the end is coming so that I can run in the other direction. 

We got on our way and made it to Ephesus. WOW! I have never seen such amazing ruins outside of Rome. I am so happy again that I listened to Rick Steves' recent podcast which touched upon Ephesus. His podcast helped bring the whole journey to life. They measure the size of an ancient city by estimating its theatre capacity and multiplying it by 10. As a result, they estimate Ephesus' population at 250,000. The theatre itself is an acoustical marvel. Some sound engineer was on Rick's program, and he said that the people of Ephesus figured out the same amazing acoustics as a sound engineer would today - if not better. You can stand in the middle of the theatre and speak in your dramatic Shakespearean voice and a person sitting on the top of the 25,000 capacity theatre can hear you. Obviously we tried it. It was amazing!!! I went to the top and Pallavi called out to me and did "Friends, Romans, Countryman," and I swear it sounded like she was right behind me. 

The people of Ephesus primarily made their wealth from the selling of deity icons. So, when Paul [Saint] went to go and speak at the theatre, the people in the crowd basically booed him off, saying "Great is Artemis," since this whole 1 God, 0 icon Christianity thing would put them out of business. That's why Paul wrote the letter to the Ephesians! 

You really can see why Ephesus was important and a great city. Only 15% of the city is excavated, and yet, you can see a complete city. You can see the exact layout, the basic structure of the town, visit the library or the merchants. You can see how they put anti-slip devices on the marble streets and the terracotta piping for the aqueduct. You can see the Library of Celsus, which was the 3rd largest library in the Ancient World, holding 12,000 scrolls. It was incredible. 

Then, just 1 km down the road from Ephesus, what do you have? The ruins of the Temple of Artemis, one of the ancient wonders of the world. There isn't much to see in terms of ruins, but there is enough to be in awe of the size and scale of the place. You can see how it would have been a wonder of the world. 

Incredible. 

Day 206: Gallipoli & Troy

Gallipoli defines ANZAC. It is what D-Day is to Americans. We had to go. The Turkish government appears to have held the entire Gallipoli Penninsula as a National Park/Cemetery/Memorial. It is hard to believe that this beautiful spot next to the crystal clear Agean Sea saw such catastrophe. It is also hard to believe why in the world a) this penninsula is the key to taking over Asia Minor and b) you would pick this spot to attack. The ANZAC Cove, where most of the Australia and New Zealand troops landed to try to take Gallipoli at the start of their 9 month campaign, doesn't really have a beach. It is a small patch of beach that immediately meets a steep hill. No wonder these guys had no luck!

It took only a small part of our day to visit, and we didn't visit many of the trenches or cemeteries just due to rough roads or time limitations, but the bit we did see made me just want to watch the Mel Gibson movie of the same name. It is incredible. 

We had to travel 450 kms and Google Maps said it would take 6.5 hours, so we had to hustle a wee bit. After we got on the ferry, and crossed from the European side of Turkey to the Asian side, Just 40 kms away, we made it to the ruins of Troy. 

No, Troy is not completely mythological. In fact, it isn't just one city. There were 9 versions of Troy, built one on top of each other. The oldest version was from 2500 BC. At first, I thought, nah, this isn't very big. It looks nothing like the Troy from that Brad Pitt movie. It is way too small. That is until we started to encircle the enclosure. This certainly wasn't a small town. It was quite large and complex. Plus, because they built one city on top of the other, you can just see archaeological developments side by side with their predecessors. How cool to think we've been to Troy!! 

We then power drove the remaining 4 hours to the city of Selcuk (again, mostly in the dark), so we can see the ancient city of Ephesus.

Day 205: Driving to Gallipoli

Whatever you do, don't drive at night. When Pallavi's parents asked if I could drive them in Turkey, as I know how to drive on the right side of the road (India drives on the left), I said "sure thing, no problem." I mean, I've driven in Morocco in the old city of Marrakesh. Driving in Turkey cannot possible give me that much difficulty. I even looked up the basics of info about driving in Turkey. I ignored all of the bits about aggressive Turkish drivers. I figured, Chicagoans are aggressive drivers. I am a Chicagoan. Therefore, I am aggressive. See? Just like a simple SAT question. However, the one bit that I took seriously was 'whatever you do, don't drive at night.' Let me continue. 

Pallavi's family wrapped up with Istanbul in the morning, despite the loss of power in our hotel, and we all made our way to the airport to pick up the vehicle. We had all intentions of renting a GPS or getting a local SIM with data on it (as we had in Morocco) before picking up the car; however, they gave us only high tourist prices. Armed only with the PDF of the Google Maps instructions I had cleverly emailed myself, we got the car and started to battle our way through Istanbul aggressive driving traffic. 

I felt in my element. I can totally drive in crazy fast traffic. In, out, weaving... okay, I drove cautiously. I don't want to kill the family on my first hurrah out! We happily drove 20 kms of the 300 kms we had to drive until WHAM... TRAFFIC JAM! This was like the Eisenhower/Eden highway split kind of a jam. You might as well just park the car. It certainly would have saved the blood which gradually drained from my left foot as I just held the clutch, in anticipation of any movement. We thought it might be an accident kind of jam, as a police car did manage to miraculously part the traffic like the Red Sea. It was 3 p.m. on a Sunday. Finally, we passed the cause. It was like the Eisenhower/Eden split. There was some sort of fair going on that everybody was going to and it had caused us to be stuck in traffic, moving only 7 kms in 1.5 hours! 

What did that mean? The sun sets at 5:30 and we finally got free of traffic at 4:30. 5 hours of driving in the dark! Why did they warn not to drive in the dark? Because of the pot holes! Did I see pot holes? Not until we ended up taking the shortcut towards Gallipoli, driving in the dark past small town after small town, with Pallavi reading the poor PDF instructions, and bypassing pot hole after pot hole! 

I don't think I did that badly. I only almost killed us once! I swear that guy zipped out of nowhere! As Grandy says, it's not who is right, but who is left. I think the family is only slightly scarred from the experience. Seriously, the Turkish people really are aggressive drivers that zip at double the speed limit and these roads really are badly marked. Maybe I should have paid more attention to the warnings. 

We made it in one piece to Gallipoli. I swear we didn't even say goodnight. We all just went to the rooms in the apartment and closed the doors and passed out. 

Day 204: Istanbul, the Blue Mosque, and the Grand Bazaar

We arrived in Istanbul at 9:50 a.m., after flying 2 hours to Greece, and then 1 hour to Istanbul. We were absolutely exhausted on the plane, but I wasn't so exhausted as to not eat just my Greek-cheese bun, but to also eat Pallavi's! We easily met up with Pallavi's parents in Istanbul. Apparently their arrival in Istanbul had been fraught with issues, and they hadn't had a chance to see anything the day before when they had arrived. As such, we really wanted to make sure they saw the highlights in the time they had left.

Our room wasn't ready, so we put on what we needed for the day, dumped our stuff in Pallavi's family's room, and made it out the door. First stop: the Blue Mosque. I feel like everybody has heard about the Blue Mosque, however, what you've heard certainly isn't nearly as amazing as what you can see. It is breathtakingly beautiful. Contrary to my previous belief, the Blue Mosque isn't called that because the exterior is blue. Oh no, it's called that because it's filled with blue tiles on the interior.

I'm so glad I listened to Rick Steves' podcast on Istanbul, so that I could learn about Sinan, the architect of the Blue Mosque. He was right there in the class of 1500 with Michelangelo, Da Vinci, that guy who built St. Paul's ..... (oh man, I know this!!!!!), and all of those other Renaissance folk.

Next stop: the Grand Bazaar. When you enter the Bazaar through it's old gates, you start to see fun historical facts about the Bazaar on signs hanging down from the main arcade. For example, did you know that competition was banned in the Bazaar, so shops didn't have any names or numbers or signs? You just had to know which guy you wanted to see. The Grand Bazaar also appears like a mini-city. I think it had a mosque and some schools at some time. The odd thing is that it is all under one building. It's also the ultimate shop. You can shop and shop and shop for hours and never know what time it is or how to find your way out!

Pallavi and I will go back to Istanbul to see it properly before we leave, but if this is the first toe-dip into the city, I cannot wait to really dive right in! 

Day 203: Last Day in Egypt

We got off of our night train back from Luxor and immediately went into "Last Day in Egypt Party Central." Heba and Nayeli had previously told us that they had a day party and a night party to attend today when we were coordinating our flight to Turkey and our train back up from Luxor. We thought it would be more important to spend time with our friends than get sleep. That is exactly what happened!

We arrived to the girls home at 10:00 a.m., repacked our stuff, took showers, had 3 coffees, had an amazing homemade Mexican breakfast, and by 3:00 p.m. we were out the door on the way to the day party. How were we getting there? The way Egyptians do - by the Nile! We happily hopped on a 20 minute boat ride down the Nile, skipping traffic and enjoying the rainbow that was coming out on this rare rainy day.

The day party was set up just like a festival, only it was an island on the Nile. There were tents set up everywhere and Egyptian-style blankets underneath them. There were two live bands and two live DJs playing pop and funk, depending upon what style you wanted. After we finished up there, we went, grabbed our stuff from the girls' house, and went to the night house party.

At 2:00 a.m. we had to leave for our 4:45 a.m. flight to Turkey. We had such a great time in Egypt and it was all due to these lovely ladies. Next stop, with minimal sleep, Turkey!

Day 202: Valley of the Kings, Temple of Hatshetsup, Medinet Habu

Finally, 3 years after my first trip to Egypt, we finally went to the Valley of the Kings. I love the idea behind the Valley of the Kings. The Pharaohs saw that tomb raiders had already looted the Pyramids, so they thought, "I will show those tomb raiders. No more of this above the ground tomb business. I'm going to hide my tomb where nobody else will find them. Therefore, I pick..... there... that big mountain across the river from Karnak. I will pick the furthest most place in the mountains, hire a village of workers, and swear them to secrecy. And, to make sure nobody finds my tomb, I will not leave any blueprints or record of the location of my tomb. Bwah hahahahahahhahaha."

And so it was. The Pharaohs all thought this was a good idea, however, since there weren't any blueprints (or so it seems), their tombs crisscross each other underground, there are locations where you can see the new tomb digger had realized he had struck another tomb and just changed directions, etc. It's all just a mountain tomb.

They number the tombs in the Valley of the Kings based upon the order in which the tombs were found. It's no surprise that the 'genius' Pharoahs who built their tombs at the entrance of the valley got discovered first. They didn't just get discovered first... they got discovered before the Ancient Greeks took over. How can you tell? Ancient Greek graffiti from Alexander the Great's tourism agency  is carved alongside the funerary hieroglyphics. Oh, and the Coptic Christians used these tombs to camp out while they were hiding from Roman persecution. These tombs barely lasted 1,000 years. I'd call that a lack of forward planning!

How about that Pharaoh who originally started the Valley of the Kings? They found his tomb somewhere in the 30s of the 63 discovered tombs. I'd say he didn't do half bad.

The tombs themselves are amazing. We had taken a guide for the day, and he recommended the 3 tombs that we should see (you get to pick 3 with your ticket). We went to the tomb of Ramses III, who was the last of the great pharaohs. The detail work in the tomb is amazing. Did you know that the hieroglyphics used to be painted? Did you know that those little hieroglyphic owls had multiple colors and wings drawn? Or that the pharaoh hieroglyphic had stripes painted on his skirt? It's so incredible.

We also saw the tomb of Ramses II's successor Merenptah and Ramses IV. All of which just showed different styles of ornamentation of the same 'Book of the Dead' story. You could see that at some stage, they just stopped cutting out the hieroglyphics from the stone and just started painting on the hieroglyphics. You can also see exactly how deep these tombs went. It was incredible.

We also went and saw two more temples. The Temple of Hatshetsup and Medinet Habu (the 'military temple' of Ramses III). These West Bank temples were built by the different pharaohs for burial processes and when Amun Ra had to take a vacation to visit the dead.

We had a great time at the place we stayed, enjoyed one last Egyptian dinner, and then we went to go and get our train back to Cairo for one more day before we head to Turkey. 

Day 201: Karnak Temple

Considering the mode of transport, we managed to sleep most of the train ride to Luxor. If only that darn baby hadn't been crying for 3 hours. At least it felt like 3 hours. At one point, I thought I hadn't fallen asleep, until I checked my watched and saw indeed I had slept 3 hours. So goes time when babies cry! 

Everything went smoothly upon arrival. The train arrived early! The driver had already arrived to pick us up. We could check in early. You name it. The hotel terrace overlooks the Avenue of the Sphinxes and Luxor Temple. What a great greeting to Luxor!

We freshened up and arranged our itinerary for the day. The family decided to take a guide with us, so off we went to Karnak Temple. 60% of the Ancient Egyptian treasury went to the upkeep of Karnak Temple, which was dedicated the sun god Amun-Ra, his wife Mut, and his son (who I forgot). The 'famous' pharaohs, Seti I, Ramses II, Hatsetshup, Tutmosis, etc. all contributed to the building of this temple at some point. 

The temple not only contains the usual hieroglyphic trappings, but it also contains three of apparently only five remaining obelisks in Egypt. As we walked around the temple, I realized that totally would do what the Pharoahs did when they took power: create 1,000 drawings of myself on various walls, getting introduced to all of the Gods, doing cool stuff, and then just writing my name everywhere else. I would let the power go to my head. Why not? I mean, without these guys, who would we know what Ancient Egyptians looked like? See?! Doing my part for the future generations. That can't be completely self-centered, can it? 

Karnak Temple is pretty impressive, although I was disappointed to learn that the Pharoahs didn't actually live in the temple. They lived in some mud-brick palaces near-by. I thought for sure they would apply the same building techniques to their homes as they did to the temples. After all, they were 'Gods,' right? No! Apparently they had some humility or couldn't get supplies, or something like that. Anyway, no palaces. Just the temples. 

We left Karnak, and Pallavi's Dad and Sister went inside Luxor Temple. We decided to give it a skip. It'd been a long day, and we have to prep for Valley of the Kings tomorrow.  

Day 200: Egyptian Museum Take 2

Today we took in the Egyptian Museum for the second time. Apparently, the government is building a new museum, set to open in 2017. I can't wait! The Egyptian Museum is set up in the classic 1920s style of curation - there is none! You have to understand, the museum also has so many things that the 'junk' it doesn't want is just sitting in the courtyard. Inside the museum, the curators have just organised items based upon time period and each item is accompanied with a short-basic typewriter written blurb about it. Halas (as they say in Egypt), which means, 'that's it' or 'finished.'

Pallavi and I went to the museum in 2012. We remember seeing King Tut, the mummies of Seti I and Ramses II, and not finishing the whole museum. As we entered the museum for the second time, I swear we didn't remember any more than we had the last time we went. We didn't remember the museum had experienced a break in in 2011 and then had artifacts returned in 2012. We didn't remember have of the stuff we had seen before (and we went the same route this time). Plus, after two times, we still didn't even finish the museum!

Tragically, the curates had temporarily removed the infamous King Tut mask from display for restoration purposes. What a shame Pallavi's family didn't get a chance to see it.

To go back to the thought about the new museum, I cannot wait to see what (fingers crossed) state-of-the-art museum this one can turn into. If it provided an audio headset tour, I know for certain I wouldn't finish the museum, but I would try my darnedest to listen to every single number.

We called the day quite early in the afternoon, after finding this famous koshari place that Heba had taken us to in 2012 for lunch. We had to catch our train at 8:00 p.m. and wanted to get home in time to spend time with Heba and Nayeli, chance, and then get our overnight train to Luxor.

That's what we thought. We got into the cab at 6:30, went to show the cabbie the ticket, so he could read the Arabic and confirm he knew the destination for our cab, and only then did Pallavi notice what I had not. The ticket time showed 22:00. That's right. 8:00 p.m. is 20:00 NOT 22:00. 22:00 is 10:00 p.m. After checking the tickets 15 times in various locations, we confirmed that indeed, I had again pulled a Sarah and we asked the cab to turn around and drive us back. Might as well use that extra time to relax with our friends before we head off to Luxor. 

Day 198-199: Cairo Citadel & Islamic Cairo

Pallavi's parents arrived and we promptly sent them off to the pyramids. They planned only for 3 days in Cairo before we all head down towards Luxor, so we cannot waste anytime. However, I decided not to go to the pyramids. I stayed and finished our various bookings and internet errands before meeting them in the afternoon. They had a ball and came back wowed with the experience. We took them around Zamalek, had a lovely dinner, and called it a day.

The next day, we took them to the Citadel. Pallavi and I didn't go to the Citidel on our first visit, so we took a look around. The Citadel is basically a medieval fortress on top of a hill with lots of various mosques and museums that overlooks the entire city of Cairo. Wikipedia says medieval in a 11th century kind of way. It actually is quite interesting. At its pinnacle stands the Mosque of Mohammad Ali. Mohammad Ali was the ruler of 'modern Egypt,' which is roughly the late 19th century. This mosque is filled with lots of Ottoman baroque influences. Then, just around the corner, is a different mosque, belonging to a 14th century ruler, Al-Nasir Muhammad Qala'un Mosque, who decided to take various pillars from structures across Egypt to build his mosque, including Coptic Christian pillars and ancient Egyptian ones as well. It's interesting to see a cross on a pillar in a mosque. We then left the Citadel to see some 3rd mosque by Ibn Hussein, who had once been a Turkish slave - and that's all I know about that one.

The entire day, small children kept coming up to Pallavi and her sister to ask if they could have pictures with them. They LOVE Indians here too, and, although they love white folk, they just pushed me out of the picture. That's okay! I'll just get my pictures taken with strangers when I go to India next time (sniff, sniff... I don't need attention...)

We spent the other half of the day shopping in Islamic Cairo. Pallavi's Mom and Sister wanted to shop as soon as they saw the pyramids. Now, shopping in Cairo requires a lot of haggling. I swear we spent 50% of the time shopping, and 50% of the time haggling, and Pallavi did a majority of the haggling. We spent so much time that tea was served. We told this story later, and Nayeli told us that once, she was served a schwarma sandwich while haggling. I'd call that success!

We all piled into one cab (5 people!) and went to meet Heba, Nayeli, and Heba's Mom for dinner. On the way, the Cabbie asked for Hindi music from us as soon as he learned the family is from India. He enjoyed the music so much that he missed his turn. How did he go back? He just reversed on the highway!!!!!! I closed my eyes and said a small prayer, followed by a chant of "it's okay. I have insurance. They drive like this all of the time." When he passed the cop, he just simply explained the situation and the cop let him go by! I wish our cops were so understanding.

Days 196-197: Back in Cairo

Pallavi's parents and her sister decided to take a two week holiday to Egypt and Turkey, and we are going to join them. Before they arrive, we had one last weekend with Heba & Nayeli. What better weekend to pick than Halloween weekend. Apparently, Nayeli LOVES Halloween. She loves Halloween in an artsy-crafts months of pre-planning kind of way. She loves Halloween so much that we spent our entire trip in Morocco brainstorming various things that we could devise out of our limited backpacker clothes and turn into a costume.

I had all sorts of costume plans, but in true Sarah form, procrastination took its toll and I ended up with nothing by the time we landed! I owned up and prepared to face their wrath. What did I get? I got tons of creative last-minute costume ideas. We got up, brunched, went to the various Egyptian Pound stores, and pulled together the last crystal ball of Pallavi's fortune teller costume (which she had created already before Egypt) and a few boxes of cereal later, they had turned me into the Cereal Killer!

I really have missed my American holidays, but I'm so glad I got to spend Halloween with these ladies!

Then the next day, Heba & Nayeli invited us to join them to an Egyptian wedding that they had to attend. This was our second wedding in two months. Thankfully I had my Moroccan dress to wear (which apparently people really, really love). This wedding was completely different than the Moroccan one. There was liquor. There were men and women sitting together. Nobody was doing that great 'congratulations' chant that they do in Morocco. Hardly any woman was wearing a head scarf. The only thing that was similar was that it was a Muslim wedding (I think!).

The wedding was held in this beautiful venue, The Swiss Club. According to Heba, back in the day, there use to be many such clubs like this one. This club was for Swiss citizens to sit, relax, drink, play lawn games, etc. At the time, it was in a really nice Middle Class neighborhood. Now, it's a diamond in the rough. Not many of these clubs exist any longer, so I'm so glad that we got to experience this one. Nothing like a bit of American & Egyptian culture before we get back on the Egypt Tourism Trail.

Day 195: Travel to Egypt

We made the travel choice to sacrifice sleep for one more night in Asilah before our flight to Egypt from Casablanca. The only train option to reach Casablanca in time for our flight left at 6:05 a.m. In broken Spanish, I asked the hotel manager if he could reserve a taxi for us to pick us up at 5:00 a.m. and carry us the 2 kms to the train station. He told me no he couldn't reserve a taxi, but we could easily go just one street over and get one. Not trusting the first guy and/or my Spanish, we asked another one of the hotel managers the same question using hand gestures. He also told us it no problem.

Still in disbelief about the ease of getting a cab at 5 a.m. in this small town, we set our alarms, mapped the walking route to the train station (just in case), and made a plan to leave in the morning with enough time to walk to the train station, if necessary.

Morning came. We groggily got ourselves ready. We left the hotel, full moon and stars shining brightly, and walked to the street where supposed easy taxi would come. Did it come? Obviously not! We had to hoof it to the soundtrack of the moonlit ocean waves all the way to the train station. Did we get the train? Of course we did!

We needed to change trains in Casablanca to get to the airport, which made the perfect opportunity to meet with one of Pallavi's old friends, who is a Moroccan she met in Delhi. We made an audible and decided to get the 11:13 train to the airport after arriving at 10:20. No problem....however, her friend was late! By the time she arrived at 10:45, we had just enough time to down a quick cup of coffee and they had the elevator catchup! At least they got a chance to catch up. 30 minutes is better than nothing.

We got our flight (again, stepping back in time into international travel circa 2000 with our central TVs and chicken/beef options), arrived back in Cairo, did a power-duty free shop for our friends, and made it back to Heba and Nayeli's. 

Day 192-194:Asilah

We got out of Tangier and arrived at the Spanish-flavored Asilah. Spanish-flavoured indeed. No more does breakfast just come with bread. Oh no. Now it has rice. More greetings with 'hola' than with 'bonjour.' The medina is incredibly quiet and clean. It has this beautiful juxtaposition of medieval walls surrounding crisp white buildings with blue trim around all of the shutters.

We had read that this town is known for being quite artsy. It has a huge street art festival in September. The writings were right. No sooner than you cross a corner than you see another piece of street art tucked away on the white backdrop. The town is set right on the Atlantic Ocean, making sunsets on the ramparts incredibly beautiful.

The city use to be a key Portuguese asset when they ran the gold trade in the 16th century. Until a pirate took over! This pirate apparently was quiet dastardly. He use to kill people by pushing them off the castle walls on the medina and into the ocean. Oh, who doesn't love a good pirate tale?

Strikingly enough, there are practically no tourists here. It's amazing considering it's proximity to Tangier and how beautiful the place is. It is a perfect town for exploration and a great place to end our journey.

We are so sad to leave Morocco. We are going to miss all of the amazing fresh bread and harissa at every turn. We are going to miss being enchanted by all of the different locations and the different traditional clothes. We are going to miss locals enthusiastically telling us, "welcome to Morocco."

Tomorrow, early morning train to Casablanca and then back off to Egypt. 

Day 190-191: Tangier

Tangier was a total bust. The town itself is actually incredibly different from the rest of the towns we've been in. Correction: it's not a town, it's a city. The city is sprawling and built on a series of hills, much like San Francisco. Also, much like San Francisco, it has stairs on its hilltops. We had wanted to check out Tangier because of it's strategic importance on the Straits of Gibraltar and its Free Trade Zone status in the early 20th century. I also thought Tangier would make an economic, great base for day trips. For example, Hercules' rumored home is under 30 kms away from Taniger.

However, that just wasn't meant to be. Tangier is quite an expensive city to stay in. We took a field trip to a place our Moroccan train friends, Nadia, had recommended we visit in Taniger: Cafe Hafa. Cafe Hafa is a restaurant for Moroccans to drink large mint teas set on a cliff overlooking the Mediterranean and Spain, just 13 kms across the Straits of Gibraltar. It really is quite beautiful and only a 1.5 km walk...uphill!

We also went to go to the American Legation Museum. Apparently, Morocco was one of the first countries to recognize the US upon it's independence. Morocco was also one of the first countries with a US embassy. Additionally, this museum is the only such museum outside of the US. We went, but ultimately decided not to go in. Seeing George Washington's signature just wasn't worth the whopping $3 for us! I can go see that in DC for free!

Anyway, since we also aren't crossing the Straits to Spain, and weren't feeling Tangier, we decided to settle for a small town just 45 minutes south of Tangier, called Asilah, which was never part of the French Protectorate. Rather, it was part of the Spanish. Time to put my rusty Spanish to the test! 

Day 187-189: Chefchaouen

After an unexpectedly windy and carsick-driving bus ride through the Rif Mountains, we arrived in the town of Chefchaouen, “The Blue City.” This city had been recommended to us by everybody. The city was formed in the 15^th century, by Muslim and Jewish refugees from Grenada. My history is a bit rusty, but I’d say they didn’t expect the Spanish Inquisition. They came here, banned Christians from entering the city and spoke a medieval form of Castilian until the Spanish opened the city up in 1920, and coloured everything blue! Everything in the city is blue. The stairs are blue. The doors are blue. The buildings are blue. Sometimes, you turn a corner  and it looks like a blue igloo – where the buildings almost look like they have been built with one of those gelatinous plaster machines that blows more of a blob that, if you don’t smooth out, just looks like a blob.

The city is incredibly charming and a wee bit cool. Not sure if it’s because we are in the mountains, or because we’re closer to the Mediterranean, or because it’s late October, but now we are starting to take out our sweaters. It also makes the whole igloo theme make a bit more sense.

Another thing that makes this city different and reflects its history is the Spanish mosque that overlooks the city. Lonely Planet recommends it as a lovely 1.5 km hike to the top the Spanish mosque’s hill. We overheard one of the girls, Maya, from our hostel say she was keen on going so we invited her to come along. We got to the top of the hill and relaxed for a bit to enjoy the view. After 30 minutes or so, we thought we’d get up and check out the other side of the mosque. We found a small path into the mountains. Feeling adventurous, we thought we’d check it out. It looked pretty level and well-trodden, so we figured it wouldn’t hurt anything.

Wrong! Maya suddenly had this desire to pick one of these cactus fruits we’d seen for sale in the markets. She was like Sleeping Beauty with the spindle. She just had to get that fruit. She picked up a stick, she approached it, and she got it off of the cactus with care. That’s when she realized that the fruit wasn’t just covered with a few visible thorns. Oh no. The fruit was covered with hair-like thorns which were now embedded in every single one of her fingers! In a split second, she had turned into the latest superhero, Cacti Woman! Thankfully she didn’t eat it!

We grabbed her coat for her, and she held her poor hands so she couldn’t touch anything, and we started to walk down to the village. As we walked, we approached a local and asked him if he knew how to get the thorns out. He said to put some dirt on them to help relieve the sting. Then he invited us back to his farm to see the farm and to have his aunt help pull out the thorns. We asked the price for the farm visit, and he said no too much. Off to the farm we went.

We got there, saw the farm, applied olive oil to the hands (which apparently allows you to brush off the thorns), and then started to argue when he quoted us a ridiculous price for having taken us to see the farm. We finally paid what we felt was fair and we went back down to the village, complaining about this particular bargaining style of the Moroccan people.

When we arrived at the hostel, ready to go and get some tea, Maya looked in her bag and suddenly declared, “where’s my phone?” That’s right. Another phone had gone missing in our lives within a two week period. Pallavi and I confirmed that the phone was in her hand when we were at the Spanish mosque chilling on the wall. We also confirmed that there wasn’t anything in her hand after she became Cacti Woman. The phone may have fallen out of the bag at the guy’s farm, but it’s most likely back up the 1.5 km walk to the mosque. Pallavi and I refused to let Maya go back up by herself, given that it was sunset.

Back up to the top of the mosque we went. No sooner did we get to the top than we met the same guy. He called his aunt to see if the phone was there but with no luck. We searched the ramparts near the mosque to see if she had dropped the phone while we were sitting. No luck. Finally, we thought we’d walk towards the cactus to see if, by some random chance, she had set the phone down on the ground and forgotten it while she was be-spelled by the plant.

There it was! The guy was so excited that we’d found it that we were invited back to his mother’s house for celebratory tea.  Moroccans may have a curiously aggressive bargaining style, but they still are incredibly helpful and generous when you’re in a pinch. 

Day 186, Part 2: The Moroccan Wedding in Fes

What do you wear to a Moroccan wedding? You wear the traditional, simple, but nice Moroccan dresses that the girl you met on the train, Nadia's, family gives you to wear, and then insists that you keep! I have heard that in traditional Muslim houses that guests are like god. Today, I felt like a real Muslim guest.

This wedding was my first non-Christian wedding. It was completely different to what I know. The wedding was held in Nadia's house. The men and women were kept separately. Additionally, apparently there are two wedding receptions: one on one day for the bride's family and one on another day for the groom's family.

Unlike our wedding receptions where we eat first, listen to Frank Sinatra, do our Dad/Daughter dance, and then break open the dance floor, in a Moroccan wedding, the first thing you do immediately do to start dancing. The Arabic music came on, the hips started moving, the shoulders started shaking, and the hands started floating.

Then, just when you needed a breather from the dancing, the bride and groom make their 1st grand entrance. That's right. They don't make just one entrance. They don't make two entrances. No. They make five entrances! Each entrance requires a different ensemble.

The reason? Nobody could actually tell us at the wedding. Neither could Wikipedia. For now, it'll have to remain a mystery.

Entrance One:
The bride wore a white Moroccan dress and the groom wore a traditional Moroccan robe. They made their entry. However, the bride didn't enter the room on her own feet. No, she was lead to a chair on the ground, where the groom's friends, in traditional Berber robes, lifted her on a palate and danced her into the room. and then they sat on this stage-come-throne that was made for them in front of all of the guests.

After they sat, this master of ceremonies and the bride's attendants (all hired people to help make sure everything goes well), made sure everything was settled. Then the bride and groom had what appeared to be the marriage ceremony. First, they held a bowl of cow's milk with rose water for each other to drink. Next, they passed the bowl around for the guests to drink. We researched this tradition and we believe its meant to symbolize purity. Then, the couple then fed each some sort of stuffed date, and then dates were handed out for the guests to eat. Finally, there was an exchange of rings. Obviously the couple then posed for pictures,

Then the groom just left. We couldn't figure out if he'd had enough of the women-only party or what. We waited and the bride just sat there on her throne. Finally, after 10-15 minutes, the groom returned bearing gifts which he presented. He gave flowers, clothes, and carried in gifts of henna, sugar, dates, etc. in large silver tagine-shaped platters. Okay, bounty given, the guests could then pose with the bride and groom. Finally, the bride and groom left.

Interlude One:

The music came back on and people continued dancing. Now, these weren't just young people dancing. Oh no! Those older women tied their scarves around their waists and started shaking their hips just as much as the younger women. I've never seen older women dance like this! They only sat when delicious cookies and juice started to be served. This is only the 2nd dry wedding I've ever attended, and I cannot imagine how much more these people would dance if they had alcohol!

Entrance Two:
The bride and groom entered wearing costume #2 - this time, the groom wore a suit/tie and the bride wore a green, velvety Moroccan dress. Again, they sat, posed, people took pictures with them, and then dancing continued.

Entrance Three:
The couple left, came back with costume #3, the groom wore the same ensemble, and the bride wore a velvety red Moroccan dress. I  must say, this was probably the most boring of the costumes. It felt a bit like they were an exhibit at a festival. You could pick with what costume you wanted your picture with the bride and groom. Do you think the green dress would flatter what you're wearing more? Okay, wait for that dress before you climb up onto the stage alongside them and get your picture taken.

I must also confess that I did start to wonder where the heck the food was? I mean, sure, they were giving us lots of cookies and sweets, but I'm more of a 'cookie and sweets for dessert', not a 'cookie and sweets for appetizers' kind of person. Plus, all of that dancing was making me really hot, sweaty, and hungry! There isn't even alcohol to give me courage - I have to go 'au natural' with my dancing. That can't be good for anybody.

Entrance Four:

Costume #4 was intense. The groom wore a traditional Moroccan costume, complete with the red hat. The bride wore this intense white dress with huge head gear. It was like Moroccan Cleopatra with a giant breast plate. Pallavi thought she looked a bit like the Hindu goddess Kali, which is intimidating, scary, and beautiful. To add to the intensity, this time they were both put onto their palates and both lifted up into the air. They only looked afraid of being dropped or hitting their heads on the chandeliers a few times.

Again, dancing interlude. By this time, we were well into Arabic pop music.

Entrance Five:

Finally, costume #5 came. The bride wore what Christians would call a traditional wedding dress and the groom wore a tux. They posed for one last photo session before they waved to the crowd, did their version of a Sound of Music 'So Long, Farewell,' and left! Apparently they go downstairs, where they eat dinner by themselves, before the family sends them off in a more private goodbye.

In the meantime, we all finally got to eat!! Food was served on a central platter and each guest was given a plate, cutlery, and a piece of bread. You could put the food on your plate, but everybody just grabbed a piece of bread and tore the meat off of the chicken on the central platter and ate it directly. Who needs the middle man of a plate?! If you waste time with the plate, you'll miss all of the food! You could tell how hungry people were based on the amount of bones that ended up scattered on the table! However, we didn't plan our eating strategy properly. There wasn't just one dish! Rookie mistake. Of course there were 2 dishes plus a fruit dessert platter.

We left completely stuffed to the gills, filled with amazement and hospitality, and with great memories and friends we'll never forget. What a great experience that just fell into our lap. Moral of the story: be friendlier to the people who sit next to you on the train! They might just invite you to a wedding.

[To probably be edited later when I figure out a funnier way to tell this story]

Day 186, Part 1: Pallavi gets a bargain in Fes

Sarah needs a new pair of shoes. My poor Toms, which I had thought about throwing away before we left in April, have become my new Energizer Bunny. They just keep going on, and on, and on. The key to their success? Lavender scented inserts that keep the sole clean and fresh. However, these inserts also have a lifespan. Long story short, Sarah needs a new pair of shoes.

We had tried to buy a new pair of leather shoes yesterday, right before we went to the Henna ceremony. The man who had the shoes we liked quoted us an outrageous price! He quoted us 600 dirham for two pairs of shoes (as long as I'm getting one, Pallavi is getting one too). That is about $90 AUD. We can buy leather shoes for that price in Australia. No way are we paying that in Morocco. By that time, we were running about 30 minutes late for our henna ceremony, so Pallavi said she didn't have time to bargain properly, and so we left.

The next day, on the way to the wedding, we thought we'd give shoe shopping on last go. As we searched for shoes, we saw the same guy, who invited us back in. That's when Pallavi really got to work. She went back and forth, she sweet talked the guy, she told him she knew that the shoes were good, but we didn't have jobs, so 240 dirham for two pairs of shoes was our limit.

He wouldn't meet our price. He started at 500 dirham this time. Then he moved to 400. Then his best price was 350. Then he invited us into the shop to reveal his best best price - 330. Again, Pallavi countered that we couldn't go up anymore on our price, so we left the shop. He came after us! He brought us back again, his best, best, best price was 280 for the two pairs.

This time, Pallavi said she could go up to 250 but that's as far as we could go. We went back and forth. Okay, 270, he said. Final price. That's just 10 dirhams more for Pallavi and 10 dirhams more for me to pay. Pallavi then said, well, if it is just 10 dirhams, then just let it go!

After 30 minutes of hard bargaining, he let it go. 250 dirhams for 2 pairs of leather shoes! That's $17 AUD per pair.

Now, we have a wedding to get to! 

Day 185: Attending a Henna Ceremony in Fes

Fes is an interesting city in that it has a really elaborate medina; however, to be honest, if you know what main square you are headed to, and just follow the signs, it's actually quite easy. The medina has much more of a Prince of Persia medieval feel to it. You are constantly walking through narrow lanes, watching for donkey trains laden with bricks or people with wheelbarrows, crossing underneath clay ramparts. It looks really cool compared to the other medinas we have explored. The people in Fes, though, are a bit crude. We have had more men catcalling and saying inappropriate things to us in this city than we have in any other throughout our travels - and this was while we were wearing jeans and a nice long sleeve top (our backpacker chic).

We've also discovered that people in Morocco love India. Pallavi is experiencing the same kind of celebrity that she did in Indonesia. No sooner do people see Pallavi and learn that she's from India then they reply with "Shah Rukh Khan!" Or, my personal favorite, they then just call after her as she passes them on the street, "Hey India!" I never realized how big Bollywood actually is as an international enterprise until now. A few months ago, Pallavi had cued me in that for collective cultures, Bollywood is more relatable, especially when it comes to inter-family relationships.

Speaking of families, today wasn't about exploring Fes and the medina. Today was about attending Nadia's cousin's wedding eve henna ceremony. We had been invited and went to her house to celebrate. In Morocco, the night before the wedding, the women get together and they hire somebody to put elaborate henna on the bride and then more simple henna on the other women. The bride puts on this velvety green dress, with lots of jewelry, and a crown, and walks into the main room behind two unwed girls who carry two large candles. There is also another family member who carries a tray laden with a bowl with two eggs and incense, a silver rose-water container, and some green velvety thing that looks like a Moroccan top-hat (but isn't) that holds sugar. The bride then sits on this throne of pillows that the family creates for her and the family starts the sing. The family sings the entire time that the henna is being applied to the bride's hands and feet.

This family is so incredibly welcoming. They put henna on both of us as well. I've never had henna put. I've never even seen it put! Usually, there are women trying to sell you henna in the square, so I try to avoid any eye contact or curious glances to avoid their attention and sales pitches. It is pretty cool. This girl who applied it really had great talent. Pallavi says that they apply it differently here than they do in India. It is much thinner here, which allows them to make the design more elaborate. They just put henna on the first digit of all fingers on my left hand, then a vine down from my index finger to just past my wrist. I must say that it suits me!

The family also let us play their instruments and got us up to dance with the crowd. It was full of fun. In fact, it was so much fun that we have shifted our plans to move from Fes by a day so that we can attend the wedding! What does one wear to a Moroccan wedding? We already wore our backpacker chic. Guess shopping for wedding clothes is one way to get a Moroccan souvenir. 

Day 184: Fes

After breakfast, our riad owner gave us a few instructions and information about how to operate successfully in Fes: 

1. Don't trust anybody. 
2. Just accept you are going to get lost and embrace it or you won't have any fun.
3. There is some sort of color coding on top of the gate that you can follow to find your way. 

With that advice and a short guided tour of how to get to his place from the closest main gate, he left us to our devices. Our own devices saw us quickly 200 meters to the closest cafe where we sat and had a coffee. Remember that we had met some Moroccans who were heading towards Fes on the train when we went to Meknes? Those same Moroccan girls had told us to give them a call when we get to Fes. 

We gave one of them, Nadia, a call while we sat at the cafe. I asked what her plans were for the day. She said, nothing, she had reserved the whole day for us! She then asked where we were. We said, "we have no idea. We are in a cafe, near a gate, and near a protest! (which was true. We just saw the riot police walk towards the protest and immediately back from the protest, without disruption to the protest)." She then asked to speak to our waiter, who gave her a more precise location. Finally she told us, "don't move, I'm coming to you!"

We had a tea and waited. When Nadia finally came, she promptly invited us to lunch with her family at her house. No sooner had she come than we were taking a taxi back to her house, where we had a proper lunch and met a whole group of family. Her father, mother, uncle, aunt, sister, brother, and more! 

Nadia's cousin is getting married in two days, so the family is filled with celebration. At some point, there was a huge group cheer going on in the family room. I figured that it was some football celebration for a goal. Nope! Nadia told us that her family says this cheer every time something happens that gives them reason to celebrate! The cheer even ends with the Arab 'youyouyouyouyou' at the end (which Nadia showed us how to do. We need to practice it more at home in the bathroom mirror before we feel comfortable enough to take it on the road.)

While we waited for tea, Nadia's sister came up with some food. In French, she asked if we wanted tea. We politely said no thank you. Her response: why?? We had no answer to that! At least not one that we could say using our broken French of 'merci' and 'enchante.' We also have learned that Moroccans have big families, for our standards. Nadia is one of 8 kids. The poor couple from who we bought the rubs had 10 kids. The riad host in the desert was one of 9 kids. We then asked Nadia what a big family is for them. She replied, 13 kids. 13 kids! I think 3 is a crowd sometimes. Geez. 

We spent the whole day with Nadia and her friend Wafa, who had joined us for the day and who we had also met on the train, they took us back to the old medina in Fes and showed us around, and her mother invited us to both partake in the cousin's pre-wedding henna celebration tomorrow and to attend her wedding the day after that. Wow! What do you wear to a Moroccan wedding? We don't know yet if we'll be able to attend, but we're just so flattered that we've been invited. 

We told Nadia and Wafa that Moroccans are the most hospitable people we've met. They have gone out of their way to greet us. Every Moroccan you meet on the street will ask you where you come from and then tell you, "welcome to Morocco." Our riad guy gave us green plates because we offered him a mint! Musicians at our hotel in the desert played music and shared their wine with us just because we were there. We can't wait to see what unfolds next. 

Day 183: Volubilis

The extent of the Roman Empire never ceases to amaze me. Here, in Morocco, they established one of their most remote outposts. This is the land of Carthage. They only were able to hold the land for 200 years before the local Berber tribes drove them out. Yet, they still were able to leave behind this ruined city and all of its olive presses for us.

Getting to Volubilis is a small adventure. It's more of an adventure because, unlike many places, there isn't a lot of information on how to get here. There is basic info: Take a bus to this pilgrimage town (where one of the prophet Mohammad's great-grandson's is buried and his body never decomposed, supposedly) and then get a shared cab. Nobody tells you where to catch the bus, or what number, or the fact that once you get on said bus,that unless you are one of the first to race for one of the 12 seats in the back, you are going to have to stand, squished among humanity, in the sun, for a one hour journey. Well, squished really was for poor Pallavi. For some reason, nobody wanted to squish up against me. Why are they afraid of touching the white foreigner? I don't bite; however, I do push back!

The ruins were really quite cool. They are set up in the mountains, and have been restored just enough that you can get a small feel for how the place would have been 2000 years ago.

We spent the day exploring before we were able to get seats on the bus (we got on right before it's last stop before turning around in the direction we wanted to go), and head back to town, gather our stuff, and get a cab to the train station, and head to Fes.

Also, side note, getting a cab to the train station is not as easy as it looks. You have to get a driver heading in your direction, claim him while his departing passenger is exiting the vehicle, and negotiate a price before you lose the cab. I had to lightly shove a woman out of my way once I finally almost got a driver! I'm working too hard for you to steal my cab lady! I got places to go, and it's almost starting to rain, and I don't have patience. #BadPushyAmerican. 

Day 182: Meknes

Meknes was a dud. That isn't to say it's a bad town. Not at all! The people in Meknes were incredibly sweet. Rather, it is to say that we didn't do too much on our day there and the town didn't really sing to us either. Meknes is it's popular neighboring town's little sister. It is actually incredibly quiet and non-touristy. That's why we wanted to stop and stay there. It also use to be the capital during the time of this infamous Sultan who was a peer with Louis XIV of France. I thought, Moroccan Versailles.

No. Not Moroccan Versailles.

It was not to be. The medina felt like a covered labyrinth that we were a bit overwhelmed to dip our toes into. It was also Friday, which is mosque day here, so a lot of the shops were closed.

It does have a quiet main square that has a small amount of merchants and entertainers. One snake charmer had such a huge crowd of people around him. His snakes clearly had lots of personality. They had so much personality that when they started to slither toward the crowd, the whole crowd immediately backed up in a unison retreat.

Our riad host was really quite sweet though. We offered him a mint, and he said, thank you, now let me show you real mint. He came back down with two green colored plates and gave them to us. We thought he said, "for you. Souvenir," so we thanked him and packed them up. As we stepped out, we suddenly wondered, "wait! Did he actually give us those plates or was he just showing them to us? Is he going to tell his friends, 'I was showing these tourists my plates and then they took them?'" We obviously asked him again just to make sure they were a gift, which he confirmed.

Good thing Meknes is the closest stop to Volubilis. 

Day 181: Return to Marrekech & Train to Meknes

We needed to return the car to Marrekech and made the decision that it made more sense to take the seven hour train ride to Meknes that same day rather than wasting another night in Marrekech or taking a night train to Meknes and having a bad night's sleep.

We got stuck behind a bazillion trucks when we climbed the mountains from Marrekesh to Ouarzazate the first time and it took us 4.5 hours. We needed to reverse that journey and get the car back to Marrkesh by 1 p.m. Unhappily, we started off at 8:30 a.m. The drive was beautiful! Somehow, we managed to avoid any major delays or getting stuck behind slow moving vehicles. We made to Marrekesh in 3.5 hours! Then things took a few bad turns on the way to the airport, and by bad turns, I mean, we almost went into a no-entry and managed to drive through the medina, past our original riad, and through the city on our way to the airport. I cannot stress enough how I wish I was just driving in Warrensburg, MO, where the biggest obstacle to your safety/timeliness/patience is the older folk driving from the Veterans Home or on their Sunday drive. We made it all in good time, turned the car in, and got to the train.

After a few hours on a super comfy train, the likes of which we haven't seen since Europe, in our packed little compartment, the young Moroccans sitting next to us started talking to us. We learned so much about Morocco as we chatted to them for the next 5 hours. Apparently, you can't travel on a train in Morocco without chatting with the other passengers in your compartment. It just is a part of the Moroccan train experience. One young guy, a Moroccan cinematographer, coming back from a shoot near Marrekesh, couldn't wait to get back to Casablanca so he could roll a joint. He went on and on, humorously, telling us all about canabis production in Morocco (which apparently supplies 90% of the supply found in Amsterdam's cafes), and about the best hash he'd ever had that got him so high, he saw a white light and thought he was talking to God. My response: "What did God say?" He didn't know! How disappointing.

What was even  more amusing is that as he went on and on and on about how good weed is in Morocco, and how excited he was to roll a joint in Casablanca, was that the 45 year-old Muslim woman sitting next to him, was laughing and giving a knowing smile, right along with him! I would have been so embarrassed speaking of such things with a "Mom" kind of character in the compartment. Nope! She had the smile of a "been there, done that, had fun" expression the whole time.

The young girls sitting next to us were coming back from interview with RyanAir and are studying to become airline attendants. We chatted with them, and asked them a variety of questions about their studies and our observations in Morocco. At one point we started to joke about weird things people have seen on flights. The girls' teacher told them that once, he was working a flight from Morocco, and while they were sitting on the tarmac, he passed an old man, who had decided it was time for him to get out his own small kettle and make himself tea!! Who does that?? Pallavi and I decided that we would really struggle in a situation interview question that asked, "what do you do if you pass a passenger who is using his own kettle to make himself tea?" We still don't know.